A Bojack Horseman Christmas Carol
by nyarinpa
Summary: Bojack Horseman likes to spend his Christmases isolated from the people who "care" about him, watching 'Horsin' Around' and getting totally smashed. However, when a familiar (and very, very dead) face comes calling round, it sends Bojack into a spiral of self pity and, possibly, self acknowledgment.
1. Prologue

Prologue

"Soo heerree iiit iiis, Meeerry Chriiistmas! Evryboodddyy'sss haaaviinn' fuuuunnn~" Todd bellowed cheerfully as he pounced into Bojack's room, santa hat on his head and grin plastered on his face.

"I- Uh..." Bojack looked up from under a sea of cheeto crumbs and spilt beer. "What is happening?"

"It's Christmas eve, Bojack!" Todd jumped on Bojack's bed, causing more beer to spill from the horse's loose grip. "I thought you might need some holiday spirit. Christmas only comes once a year, y'know."

"Jeez, thanks. I had no idea," Bojack rolled his eyes, making it clear he was being sarcastic (If Bojack had one talent, it was overacting) "I mean why are you in my room. You shouldn't even be in my house."

"Ahw come on Boj..."

"I told you never to call me that."

"You act all 'Bah humbug' but you know what you really want is to decorate a tree and sing christmas carols with your best friend Todd." Todd budged up towards Bojack.

"That is exactly what I don't want to do." The Horse sighed. "Listen, Kid, I want to spend this Christmas just like I spend every Christmas. Alone, in my bed, with a bottle of bourbon and the curtain drawn watching the only thing i have ever done that made me think I wasn't a total wreck."

"Do you really want that though...?" Todd asked, bumping Bojack's recoiling arm with his fist.

'Yes!" Bojack snapped. He took a deep breath massaged his temples. "Please. _Please._ Let me have one day without you fucking up everything I hold dear."

Todd stood up. "I just thought-"

"Thoughts are meant to be _inside_ your head. And I want you _outside_ my room." Bojack gestured to the door.

"..." Todd took a breath, as if to say something. But, he thought against it, and instead just looked at his roommate sadly before walking to the door.

"Merry Christmas, Bojack." Todd muttered before shutting the door behind him.

Bojack glared at the door, before sighing, putting his head in his arms. "Bah Humbug..."

((Hey. I'm Pun. You may remember me from such things as: crappy gay sex scenes i wrote when I was 12. Well here I am, three years later, and I'm glad to say I've moved on. I hope you enjoy this, whatever it is. It hasn't got any ships in it, except for what's canon. I'm planning on uploading daily until it's finished, meaning i'll upload the last one on Christmas day, since its going to be in 5 parts (6 including this prologue) and we're 5 days away from christmas. That means I'll be uploading the first chapter today as well. Also, sorry if there's any spelling or grammar mistakes, i don't have a Beta (so if you wanna beta for me HMU haha).

Please show your support by commenting and liking and all that jazz It honestly means a lot (need me some Validation(tm) haha). I hope you enjoy this 5 day journey. Merry Christmas!


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The encounter with Todd left a rather bad taste in Bojack's mouth, which he decided could only be washed out with alcohol indigenous to a bar. He sloppily pulled on a pair of pants and a jumper and snuck out of the house into the warm winter air of Hollywoo. As he walked, He could hear carollers singing faintly and the miscellaneous sounds of people having a good time; The sound, to Bojack, that was like nails on a chalkboard. What were they doing? Christmas is just a stupid way for sad people to not think about how unhappy they were by smothering their emotions with tinsel. Bojack, however, wasn't stupid, and so smothered his emotions with alcohol, like a man. A _horse_ -man.

Bojack finally approached the familiar bar and pushed into the bar, away from the irritating background noise of carols and happiness -

and into a bar with loud laughing, singing, and happiness. His eyes widened for a second, before turning to leave.

"Bojack?" A painfully cheerful voice bellowed out over the noise of the bar. Bojack sighed; there was only one person he knew whose voice alone could make him feel like he'd just eaten 10 buckets of candy floss and washed it down with a cherry soda, and was now feeling thoroughly ill. 'Not today. Please. Haven't I suffered enough?'

"Bojack!" Mr Peanutbutter placed his hand on Bojack's shoulder. "I didn't even see you come in! Leaving already?"

"Hey Mr Peanutbutter." Bojack didn't even bother to smile. "Yeah I'm leaving, sorry. Bye." Bojack stepped though the doorway. He thought he'd managed to escaped until...

"Oh wait!" Mr Peanutbutter called after Bojack. The horse stopped, took a deep breath, and turned back around. "What?"

"Diane and I are having a dinner party tomorrow for Christmas! I was wondering if you wanted to come. There'll be christmas crackers and coloured paper hats!" His ears perked up inquisitively. "What do you say?"

"I have plans." Bojack stated plainly. "Sorry."

"Are you sure? You can have the blue paper crown if you want." Mr Peanutbutter raised his eyebrows, hoping that giving away his favourite colour crown may sway Bojack.

"I prefer yellow." Bojack shot his offer down. "And I really have plans I can't cancel."

"That's okay Boj. Maybe next year." Mr Peanutbutter smiled weakly, " Everyone will be disappointed not to see you though."

"I'll see if i can stop by." Bojack's lie, made in an attempt to get away from the irritating animal, caused the dogs face to light up like a christmas tree.

"Great!" He grinned. "I'll save a place for you!" Bojack had already started walking away.

"Uhh.. Whatever. Bye Mr Peanutbutter." He called back, waving his hand slightly.

"Merry Christmas, Bojack!" the yellow lab yelled, waving his arm over his head, before being pulled back into the swarm of merry people. "Erica? You know you're not allowed within 10 feet of a christmas tree since last year! It's fine you're amazing get over here!"

'Aaand time to get some alcohol in me.' Bojack thought. 'As quickly as possible."

As Bojack approached his house, a paper bag with a cheap bottle of recently bought, recently downed bottle of wine in his hand, he stumbled slightly. He was drunk. Then again, he was always drunk. And so, he approached his front door in his usual manor, and gazed upon the door, and the hand-made cardboard knocker which was proudly protruding from slightly off centre of the door. 'Todd...' Bojack shook his head. He told the moocher not to put up any of his crappy 'do it yourself' christmas decor. God. If Bojack wanted his house to be covered with glitter and glue, he would have let the Jerb Kazzaz Orphans stay with him. Then again, why have 15 snot nosed normal sized kids when you can have Todd, one oversized snot nosed kids. Bojack reached up and was about to tear down the cardboard and glitter monstrosity, when suddenly-

"Don't you fucking dare you bastard."

Bojack started, shocked. He looked around, trying to find the source of the slightly uncalled for barrage of curses. "...Todd...?" He called into the dim light of evening Hollywoo.

"So you stab me in the back, then forget I even exist? Typical Bojack." Bojack's eyes focused on the knocker. Or, maybe more accurately, where the knocker once was, as in the place of the cardboard cutout was the face of Jerb- I mean _Herb_ Kazzaz, whose eyes were focused on Bojack.

"Herb...?" Bojack reached out a hand, to touch the ghostly face of his dead ex-friend.

The ghost's face twisted into a grimace, and let out a ghastly yell, knocking Bojack clear off his feet. The bag in his hand clinked on the ground as he put his arms out to soften his fall. "Shit!" He yelled, jumping to his feet. "What the... Fuck?" He glared at the knocker, and the knocker stared blankly straight ahead, the face of Herb no longer present. Bojack opened the door, leaped though the threshold and slammed the door, not wanting to stay in the presence of the knocker that was now swinging on the outside of the shut door.

"Fucking cheap ass wine." Bojack thought. "I probably shouldn't have had those horse tranquillisers earlier..."

Todd was already asleep when Bojack got in; curled up on the couch in a blanket hugging a giant candy came. The sticky boy murmured in his sleep as Bojack sat on the other side of the couch, grabbing the remote that was teetering dangerously just above Todd's head on top of the sofa and turning the TV on.

"Yes it's Christmas eve," The whale anchor buzzed into life as Bojack flipped through channels and landed on MSNBSea. "A time where children are waiting for santa to ho ho ho his way into our houses, and indeed our hearts, and fill our lives with gifts. It is a time of friendship and happiness, where no one is truly alone."

Bojack looked over at Todd. He felt alone. What did it matter if Todd was there? He was unconscious, and Bojack was alone in the room. He tried to tell himself that that was how he liked it, that he'd rather be here than in an over crowed bar with people singing christmas carols and throwing up in stockings. But that was a lie. He hated being alone more than anything else in the world.

"And so, from all of us at MSNBSea, we wish you a Merry Christmas, surrounded by all your family and frie-" The screen suddenly went black with a _click_ as Bojack could watch no longer. He put his head back against the sofa and looked up at the ceiling.

 _clink_

Bojack lifted his head slightly and looked around the room. Did he just hear something? After a while, he decided no, it was nothing, he was just tired. He lied his head back as his eyes fluttered shut, as he wallowed in a pit of self pity and alcohol.

 _clink CLUNK clink_

Okay he definitely heard something that time. Bojack's eyes snapped open and he pulled out his phone, the small light illuminating the area around the couch. He glared around the room- Todd better not have found another "pet"; he was always rescuing strays and letting them sleep in his house. It would be almost acceptable if they weren't anthropomorphic, but trying to use a bathroom and finding a homeless badger using your toothbrush to wash behind his ears was, in every sense, not okay.

"Hello?" The horse called out into the darkness. "Is anyone there? If so, get out of my goddamn house."

He was just being paranoid. He knew he was, but that didn't stop him from still being slightly more conscious of his surroundings than before when he slowly slid his eyes shut one more time.

 _CLINK CLUNK CLINK CLUNK_

Bojack sat bolt upright, only this time the noise didn't stop when he opened his eyes.

 _CLINK CLINK CLUNK CLANG CLINK_

Bojack turned his head, left and right, desperately trying to find the source of the ever growing louder clattering. He tried to call out but the sheer terror of the spooked horse left him on scared silence. He stood up and walked forward, trying to find something, anything, that he could use to defend himself against the darkness.

 _Clink clink CLANK -_

And as suddenly as it began, the noise stopped, and Bojack was again in an eerie silence. This silence was different, however. It was like a calm before a storm, as Bojack knew any second something would jump out and-

 _chk chk chk chk._

Bojack spun around as he heard a rattle coming from behind him. It was coming from his bedroom door, or more precisely, the doorknob. _'There's someone in my bedroom...'_ Bojack thought to himself, wincing ' _I really hope they didn't look under my bed. God I'm gonna get murdered. Can't say I'm surprised, although I always thought Todd'd be the one to do me in.'_

Bojack's internal monologue was cut short as the rattling sound once again sounded, making the horse jump.

"Come out of there." Bojack commanded in his most 'I'm not pissing myself right now' tone. Suddenly, the door slammed open and he was knocked by some other-worldly force head first over the back of the couch, so he was sitting on it upside down. Bojack peered between his legs at the doorway. Stood there, dimly glowing, was a man. Bojack turned himself around and sat hiding on the sofa. "Who are you?" Bojack asked the apparition, "If you want somebody, take Todd."

"I don't want Todd, Bojack." The man took a step forward. "I want you."

Bojack recognised that voice. It had been what felt like centuries since he heard it last, but nevertheless, he knew whose voice it was. He could never forget. Yet still, he repeated "Who are you?" as the answer he knew was far too terrifying.

"I was once the person you knew as Herb Kazzaz."

It was true, the man, although glowing and slightly transparent, did share a striking resemblance with the late writer. He was dressed in rags, however, and was carrying in his arms a ball and chain. He threw it to the ground, and Bojack could see that it was not attached to the man, but an accessory for someone else to bare. Bojack gulped.

"You don't believe me, do you?" The ghost asked, but before he gave the horse time to answer, "But i guess if you never listened to me when I was alive, why should you start caring about me now I'm dead?"

"Did I get really high and just... forget?" Bojack rubbed his eyes, trying to discern if the man was real or just a hallucination brought on by a bad acid trip.

"That wouldn't be the only thing you forgot." Kazzaz sighed. "Whatever happened to loyalty. Friendship. Trust? But then, look who I'm talking to." He gestured toward Bojack. "All you have ever cared about is yourself. You manipulate, you betray," the ghost hovered towards the horse, who leaned back to try and keep as much distance between him and the ghostly figure. "You bastard."

Kazzaz's eyes bored into Bojack's soul. He then stood up straight and lifted his eyebrows. "You're gonna be visited by three Ghosts," the writer started, before Bojack let out a guffaw of delight.

"Right!" Bojack shook his head, smiling. "I should have seen this coming. The knocker, the chains, the 'three ghosts'. Where are the cameras?" Bojack jumped up and looked around the apartment before swaggering up to the so called 'ghost' of Herb Kazzaz. "I'm not a fucking moron-"

"debatable..." the ghost cut in, causing the horse to glare sternly.

"-and I know you're not real." Bojack finished. He wandered around the man, observing him. "I have to say, it looks impressive, but you cant fool m-" Bojack was knocked off his feet and was sent flying through the air before slamming into a wall with a bit of an unnerving _crunch_.

The ghost turned a shade of red with pure rage. "YOU ARE A SELFISH BASTARD, BOJACK. IF YOU DO NOT CHANGE YOUR WAYS," with a flick of his wrist, the ball and chain Kazzaz carried in flew to the terrified, and hurt, horse, and grabbed his leg tightly and refused to let go "YOU WILL SPEND ALL OF ETERNITY WITH NOTHING BUT YOUR REGRETS AND ACTIONS TIED TO YOU, WEIGHING YOU DOWN. YOU THINK YOU CAN CARRY ALL THAT WEIGHT? OR WILL YOU BUCKLE? NO ONE WILL BE THERE TO END YOUR MISERY, BASTARD. YOU'LL BE ALL ALONE. LIKE YOU ALWAYS ARE."

Kazzaz's words stung. It was like the last time he saw him, all over again. the ghost took a deep breath, and managed to compose himself. "You'll meet the first ghost tomorrow, at the stroke of one." Bojack said nothing. He couldn't. "You're a shitty person, Bojack. there's no hope for you. The damage you've done, it's there forever. No one can change that. But you can learn to stop making any more damage."

And with that, the ghost was gone, and Bojack was, again, alone in the room.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Bojack glanced over at Todd. He was still sleeping soundly on the couch, . God knew how. The horse sighed and decided that it wouldn't do him any good waiting out in his lounge, so took himself off to bed.

Now that the ghost was gone and peace had returned to the Bojack Horseman/David Boreanaz household, it seemed slightly preposterous that there had been a ghost there at all. Even though it had only just happened, it almost felt like it were a dream, as if the memories weren't his own. He shook off the last of the unease he had gained in the encounter and got into bed. Out of the corner of his eye, he checked the time on the digital clock next to his bed. 23:08. That meant he had just under two hours until-nothing. Nothing was going to happen. What was he worrying about? It was just a trip. He was tripping. For some reason, though, he still didn't want to look at the clock full on, as if it would show to whomever was watching him, be it ghosts or a reality TV show, that he believed what he had just learnt from Kazzaz. He was being ridiculous, of course, but that didn't stop him from acting like nothing was wrong. And with that thought, Bojack pulled the covers over his head and dozed of into a half-conscious state.

A while later, Bojack was startled awake by a bright light that was shining through his blanket. It was as if someone were shining a giant searchlight onto the bed, which was harbouring the startled horse, in an attempt to find him. The light, even softened by the sheets, was still blinding. Bojack took a reassuring breath, squeezed his eyes shut, and sat up, taking the blanket from over his head.

It took a while for Bojack to get used to the light, even with his eyes shut, but when he opened them, it was dark. The only reminder that the light was ever there were the strange, coloured dots in Bojack's vision which slowly faded as Bojack got used to the darkness again.

In front of Bojack was a young woman with dark hair who had her back to the horse. She, like Herb before her, was glowing softly, and Bojack could just see his bedroom wall through the slightly opaque girl. However, unlike Herb, she was wearing a normal outfit, no rags, and, to Bojack's relief, no chains. Bojack gazed through the girl and over to the digital clock that was still blinking proudly. 01:00 exactly. Bojack's eyes rolled back to the girl in front of him.

"I'm not afraid of you."

Bojack's words echoed back to him in the silence of the room.

The ghost's shoulders moved, and Bojack heard a slight chuckle. "That's good, Bojack." The ghost turned. "I'm glad to hear that I don't scare you." Bojack couldn't believe his eyes. Standing before him- or more, _hovering_ before him, was what seemed to be the Ghost of Diane Nguyen. The horse opened his mouth and closed it again. He didn't recall Diane _dying_ in the past 24 hours. He would have thought that Mr Peanutbutter would have at least mentioned it in passing when they met earlier in the evening.

"I am the ghost writer of Christmas past." Diane smiled.

"Diane?" Bojack asked. "Are you... dead?"

"I am dead, but I'm afraid I am not Diane,, Bojack." The ghost hovered over and sat on the side of his bed. "I took this form to make it easier for you to process what's about to happen."

Even if the person in front of him said otherwise, it was very difficult for Bojack to believe that they _weren't_ Diane. The look she gave him was the same look that she always gave: one of pity, a kind of sad smile. Bojack hated that look, but it also felt nice whenever she looked at him; at least she cared enough to pity him. In some twisted way, it was best that this apparition would take the form of the young writer-Diane was the only person Bojack had ever really spoken about his past to. It was weird. Even though they said they weren't Diane, he still trusted them.

"Let's say, for the sake of argument, that I believe all this ghost shit you and your buddies have been pulling," Bojack stated nonchalantly, as if didn't really care if it was true. "What's about to happen?"

"We're gonna take a trip down memory lane. It's kind of like you're telling me about your past, but instead, well... You'll see."

"I've seen _A Christmas Carol_ , not Diane," Bojack sighed. "I was actually tied to get the part, but they ended up giving it to that one-trick pony, Jim Carrey."

Diane smiled and stretched out her arm to Bojack. "How about we go find out the truth behind Bojack Horseman?"

Bojack took the ghost of not-Diane's hand, and they suddenly began to float.

"Woah!" the horse gasped. "Should'a really seen that coming, but-shit!" Bojack and his ghost guide flew out of his window and into the night sky. The horse squeezed his eyes shut and flung his arms out in a futile attempt to stop himself from plunging to his death off the side of the cliff. Great. Now his death was going to look like a suicide. _Thanks for not killing me,_ _Todd._ Bojack thought, bitterly. _That would have sold so many more books than this predictable garbage._

Before he could finish planning out in depth exactly where and how Todd would have eventually killed him (in bed, with one of the old couch cushions,) the sky was filled with the same blinding light as before. "The... Past?" Bojack inquired wryly. Not-Diane ignored him, and they headed towards the light until they were totally engulfed.

For a moment, Bojack couldn't see anything. Slowly, details of his surroundings became more and more apparent until he could finally see the destination the ghost writer had brought him to. "My childhood home." Bojack frowned, looking at the building in front of him. "How original..." He looked over at the ghost, who looked away sheepishly.

"I gotta stick to the plot, Bojack. Jeez."

The horse rolled his eyes. "Oh, wow. Now I _know_ you're not Diane."

The ghost gave a slight "mhm" and sailed up the stairs, opening the door. "You coming?"

"Uh, yeah... Sure." Bojack, still shaken by the sight before him, followed Diane. The ghost closed the door behind them. Inside, it was as dark and depressing as Bojack had always remembered it.

"Christ..." the ghost sighed, "I still can't believe you grew up in a place like this."

Bojack didn't say anything; he kept walking down the hallway. With every step he took, he felt like he was getting dragged back into the depressing shit hole, like he was a kid again who wanted nothing more than his parents approval. Speaking of, there was that very same kid sitting in front of the TV right now! Bojack ducked behind the doorway and peered round. The room was dark, and the light of the television illuminated the small boy. He was currently drawing on a piece of paper, but from Bojack's current position, he couldn't see what the younger him was working on.

"You can go in, y'know." Diane's voice startled Bojack, and he turned around quickly. "He can't see you." Bojack sent a quick glare to the ghost and carefully, as not to make too much noise, walked into the room. He stood behind the bulky television, peering down at the young horse. The ghost followed behind, and they both looked down at the drawing in progress.

"It's Christmas?" Bojack asked.

"I suppose. It has to be." Diane nodded. "Either that or you used to want to marry someone called 'Chris Mass.'"

The drawing was of a small brown and pink scribble in a sailor outfit standing next to a taller, lighter scribble holding a glass of red wine and an even taller scribble with an angry face with a pipe in his mouth. The scribble family was surrounding a series of small, medium, and large green triangles stacked on top of each other. Underneath, in giant, messy lettering were the words 'MARRY CHRISSMASS.'

"What's that thing in the middle?" Diane asked, pointing to the pile of green.

"It's a Christmas tree, obviously." Bojack snapped.

"Uh, okay. And the... scribbles?"

"Would you call Picasso's work 'scribbles,' Diane? Think before you speak. It's obviously me, my alcoholic mother, and my abusive father." Bojack waved his hands frantically at the drawing. "It's adorable and shows how horrible my childhood was. I should win some sort of awa-"

The sudden _SLAM_ of a door from out in the hall made Bojack's narcissistic ramblings come to an abrupt stop. A few _clinks_ of glasses could be heard from the kitchen.

"Knock, knock," Bojack whispered, looking over expectantly at the ghost suspended beside him.

She took a moment to think about whether or not she should take the bait. Ultimately, she decided, _What the hell, why not?_

"Who's there?"

"Childhood Trauma."

The ghost sighed, "Childhood trauma _who_?"

"Oh, Bojack." In a feat of great timing, the mother of the young boy and a middle-aged man walked into the room, wine glass in hand. "What are you doing here?"

"I was waiting for Santa, Mother." Young Bojack stood up and gave the drawing he made to the woman in the doorway.

"Marry... What?" The woman raised an eyebrow.

"It's for you, Mother! I drew it all by my self!"

"Yes..." The disgust was plain on her face. "I can see that. What was that about Santa?"

"I know you're not supposed to, but I really wanted to see him for myself." Young Bojack smiled at his mother.

"God, Bojack, for the last time. Santa Claus isn't real. He died a long time ago. Just like any chance of happiness for anyone in this toxic household..." The woman sat in her chair. "Why do you not listen to me? You're such a dunce, Bojack. I expected so much better when I was first pregnant. But then, nine months later, you popped out and ruined everything."

"Nice imagery." Diane laughed awkwardly in a fruitless attempt to alleviate some of the tension. Bojack stared on, only half there as the scene unfolded before him.

"Sorry, Mother." The young Bojack lowered his head.

"And you know what I think about this crap you keep doing?" She held up the drawing. "It's just not good, Bojack. Leave the art to the masters. Anything else is just communist propaganda, if you ask me."

"Yes, Mother." The young horse sniffed.

"Oh, Christ save us. Are you crying now as well? You're so weak, Bojack."

"I know, Mother."

"I can't look at you anymore." The horsewoman rubbed her temples. "Go to your room." She gestured out the door. The young boy meekly stood up and started walking out the room. "Oh. wait. Bojack?"

"Yes, Mother?"

"Be a good little boy and throw this garbage away when you pass the trash can." She crumpled up the drawing and handed it back to the child. He said nothing and walked out of the room, leaving his future self and the ghost alone in the dark room with his Mother.

"I'd like to leave." Bojack's voice cracked. "Right now. I need some alcohol in me as quickly as possible."

"Okay, Bojack." Diane nodded, understandingly. "We have somewhere else we have to be, anyway."

And with that, the room around them started fading away along with Bojack's mother, who was still sipping wine, until she was gone completely, and they were again surrounded by light. As before, Bojack could start making out shapes in the whiteness. Slowly, he could begin to tell where they were.

"Whoa…" Bojack gasped, smiling slightly. "I haven't seen this place in years…"

Diane looked over at him, "You look happy. A lot of fond memories of this place?"

"Well, of course!" Bojack started walking forward. "It's like my second home."

Bojack walked until he was in the middle of a living room with yellow walls and a light-pink and brown staircase. There was a Christmas tree at the side and the tinsel intertwined around the bannister. It was more half a living room, as the space was cut down the middle like a doll's house.

"The Horsin' Around set... I never thought I'd see this place again…"

As Bojack finished his sentence, the doors behind him opened, and a crowd of people came flooding in. They swarmed around the seats, trying to find a free space in the mass of bodies.

"There's gonna be a show?" Bojack asked, not taking his eyes off the crowd. When no reply came, he turned his head to see the ghost had vanished. "Diane…?" Bojack called out. He walked through the door of the "house" and looked around, trying to pick out the girl in the multiple stagehands that were running around, frantically preparing for the show. Finding Diane wasn't difficult, as she _was_ glowing. It was, Bojack thought to himself, like the _Where's Waldo?_ book he had, where Todd had gone through in permanent marker and circled all the Waldos. Bojack walked up to the ghost and stood next to her.

Diane was looking at a young girl with brown hair that went just above her shoulders and a cheeky smile on her freckled face. She was chatting casually with a stagehand. "Look at her." Diane sighed, shaking her head. "She's so…innocent."

"Hollywoo screws up kids," Bojack sighed.

"God, I am not joking, you fuck-up." A sudden snap caused the ghost, the horse, and the little girl to all jump. "I asked for a cappuccino. This has _clearly_ been made with cold milk. Are you trying to kill me? Is that it?"

A 20-year-old horse in an orange jumper was currently telling off a quivering stagehand.

"Bojack!" The little girl's face lit up as she ran up to the irritated horse.

"Oh, hey, Sarah Lynn." The horse smiled at the young girl and then shot a glare at the blonde stagehand. "Just go fix it, okay?" he muttered, pushing the cup into the scared girl's hands.

"Bojack! I can't wait to do this Christmas episode!" The girl beamed.

"God, the script on this episode is terrible," Bojack sighed. "I just hate Christmas."

"What?" The little girl's mouth dropped agape. "How can you hate Christmas? It's so fun! There's singing, presents, trees…"

"Christmas," Bojack dropped onto one knee, so he was eye level with the freckled girl, "is a bullshit event made up by TV producers to scrape in the last of the money. It has nothing to do with love or giving or caring about all the shitty people in your life. The sooner you realise that, the better. You understand?"

"Okay, people. Time to get rolling!" a young, not-dead Herb Kazzaz called out from the stage, totally shattering the tension between the cynical horse and the upset child.

Bojack stood up. "Happy face, Sarah Lynn." He grinned manically at the small, teary eyed child. "The world's watching. You don't want the world to see how weak you are, right?"

The little girl shook her head. "Well, let's get going, then!" Bojack strolled over to the stage and greeted the crowd. Sarah Lynn stayed for a second to wipe away her tears before following Bojack.

"Hollywoo's the one that screws kids up, huh?" Diane raised an eyebrow at Bojack.

"Hey, I was a bit intense. I get it. But it's not my fault how Sarah Lynn turned out. It was…the industry? Something like that, right?" Bojack asked, more trying to convince himself than the ghost. Diane didn't answer and walked onto the stage. "Hey! Diane?" Bojack called after her. "You didn't agree with me. Diane?" Bojack walked onto the stage. His past self, along with the three children, were all ready to start the scene.

"Diane?" Bojack spun around. She was nowhere.

"Okay. We're all set people," Kazzaz called out from nowhere. "Cue the lights."

A _click_ sounded as one of the stagehands turned on a spotlight. "Jesus…" Bojack covered his eyes with his arm. "I remember the stage lights being bright, but never…" The spotlight's light was now illuminating the entire studio, and it was getting brighter by the minute.

"Diane?" Bojack was shouting now. "Diane, where the hell are you?" The light now totally engulfed him." _DIANE!"_ Bojack yelled, but it was too late.

Diane was gone, and he was again alone in his room.

((I don't know how I thought I could do this in 5 days. I'll probably get it out before the new year, buuut I'm not making any promises... On a happy note, though, someone beta'd this chapter, so the grammar and punctuation is a million times better. So thanks to futagogo!))


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